


Interstate 5

by SimplyLucia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: California, F/M, Gift Fic, Harley-Davidson, Modern AU, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Road Trip, Sandor on a Harley-Davidson, Sansa's POV, Summer reading, This fic is silly as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4399496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyLucia/pseuds/SimplyLucia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dumped by Joffrey in a gas station located in Southern California, Sansa tries to find a lift. Giving up on her visit to Mission San Luis Rey de Francia? Never!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interstate 5

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady Cyprus](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lady+Cyprus).



> This fic is loosely based on elements from the books and the mood is probably lighter than in my other stories. I’ll describe it as a sort of summer reading, especially because it takes place in an area I’d like to visit one day: Southern California. If there are Californians amongst the readers, I hope it’s not completely cliché…  
> Everything belongs to GRRM. Not beta-read.
> 
> Here's the list of words LadyCyprus gave me to inspire this fic (I did my best to include all of them): Harley-Davidson, tourist, ribbon, road trip, animal shelter, ponytail, bookworm.

The wind chimes tinkled as Sansa exited the store of the gas station. Interstate 5 stretched for miles and miles under the Californian sun: a long ribbon of asphalt running parallel to the ocean. Her destination, Mission San Luis Rey de Francia in Oceanside was still far away.

Sighing, she shouldered her bag and tied her hair up in a ponytail. According to the cashier, people often gave hitchhikers a ride in this station; he had said with a smirk it shouldn’t be a problem for her. Sansa had then rued her overall shorts, her boyfriend Joffrey who had left her in this gas station after a hundredth argument and her absurd tendency to blindly trust other people. _Not necessarily in that order._

 _You’re not going to give up on your visit to Mission San Luis because of Joff._ She intended to send him a postcard, with a view of the church’s immaculate facade. _‘Successfully made it to Oceanside. I’m having a great time visiting the Spanish Mission and sunbathing on the beach. Go to Hell.’_ She intended to sign _‘The Bookworm’_ as it was Joff’s newest insult. The romantic road trip in Southern California had turned into a disaster, but somehow, she was happy it was over.

The wind chimes tinkled again behind her and she gathered her courage. She asked a couple with a baby if they were going to Oceanside as they walked to their SUV. The man answered they were not heading South, then his wife added, looking hard at Sansa while patting the back of her baby, a girl like her would quickly find someone to give her that lift. _As if a student wearing shorts always had something in the back of her mind._

“Going to… Carlsbad?” someone asked behind her.

Sansa turned around and took in a dark-haired man, whose gray-green eyes had always unsettled her. _Fuck. Petyr Baelish._

“No, Oceanside. What are you doing here?”

He laughed. “What are _you_ doing here, all alone?”

Sansa shifted from foot to foot. “Visiting the Spanish Missions in California.”

“Your mother would freak out if she knew you’re doing hitch-hiking. You’re lucky I’m here to rescue you. Come on.” He showed her a sports car that screamed _‘aging Lothario’_ , a bit further.

“I don’t want to be rescued, I don’t-” An exhaust roar drowned out the rest of her words. Sansa swiveled her head and saw a tall, robust man removing his helmet by his Harley-Davidson, before getting closer to the fuel pump. Petyr cursed: he had recognized Sandor Clegane, who worked for the Lannisters. Clegane had seen them too. With his leather jacket, he looked even more intimidating.

While Sandor Clegane filled it up with gas, Baelish tried to talk Sansa into coming with him. She refused.

“Aren’t you a cute tourist with these shorts?” It was Clegane’s gravelly voice. He was coming back from the store after paying for the gas; his appraising eyes infuriated Sansa.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know Joffrey just dumped me,” she said accusingly. “I bet he sent you here on purpose.”

Sandor looked dumbfounded, then he glared at Baelish. “Don’t know what happened with the brat, but I can see you don’t want to go with Mr. Baelish.”

“Nice bike, Clegane,” Petyr commented. “Probably cost you an arm and a leg. But you know what? You’ll always look like you just ran away from the animal shelter, expensive bike or not.”

A heavy tension filled the air; Sansa moved her eyes between them, then she turned her back to Baelish and asked Sandor: “Can you give me a ride?” Deciding with whom she wanted to leave this gas station was like choosing between two evils, but she felt like she could at least trust Sandor.

He didn’t answer but he led her to his Harley. “Only have one helmet,” he muttered. “Don’t usually give a lift to pretty little things like you.” With a smirk, he got on his bike.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Take mine. Where were you going?”

Sansa hesitated, thinking about the unexpected turn of events, then she climbed behind him and wrapped her arms around Sandor’s waist. “It doesn’t matter. Wherever you want.”

 


End file.
